Things I Should Have Said
by 12 Withering Roses
Summary: Just because you don't like someone doesn't mean you don't love them. Family's funny like that. Rated T for mild language. Plus, it's kind of a darkfic.


Disclaimer: No rights, no profit, just my inner author playing with someone else's characters.

The thing about that day was that it started out to be a relatively normal Saturday for Sam Puckett. She got up at ten to noon. She threw on the clothes she'd discarded on her bedroom floor three days before, after a cursory sniff to ensure that they didn't smell too bad. She spent a good ten minutes ransacking her cupboards for something edible before giving up and deciding that she could just grab something at Carly's. Without waking her mom, who was still passed out on the couch, Sam grabbed her bus pass and her cell phone and left her apartment to hop a bus over to Carly's. There was nothing about that day to suggest that it would turn out to be life-altering in any way.

Twenty minutes later, Sam was knocking at Carly's door. Without waiting for a response, as per her usual manner, she strolled in after the first knock. She stopped mid-stride as she saw Carly, Spencer, and Freddie sitting on the couch, all glued to the TV, watching...the news?

"Hey, 'sup Carls? Spencer. Freddork." She greeted them.

"Hey Sam." Carly replied absently. Hers was the only response.

"Dudes, seriously, what's up? I never knew that the news was that riveting."

"There's a story on now...something about a gun fight breaking out on a bus this morning." Carly said, shooting Sam a serious look. Sam just grinned.

"Cool." She said, sitting down beside Carly, snagging the sandwich Spencer had been reaching for off the table and beginning to devour it. "Were there any decent injuries? Did they get any blood on camera?"

Carly shot Sam a look. She was silent for a moment before answering.

"Someone died, Sam. A girl. An innocent bystander. She was our age."

Sam immediately went silent, feeling suddenly sick to her stomach. She placed the sandwich back on the table, having instantly lost her appetite. It was hard to imagine someone their own age dying like that. It made her start to think about her own mortality.

"Do you think, maybe..." Sam trailed off, not wanting to finish her thought. She swallowed before continuing. "You think maybe it was someone we know?"

Carly shrugged and looked at Sam. Sam could see that Carly had been thinking the same thing. They all probably were.

"There's no way to know. They won't release her identity until after they've notified her family." Carly said this quetly, barely above a whisper. The room was deathly silent.

Sam nodded. She had a sudden, gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach. She pulled out her cell phone and began punching in numbers. Carly gave her a questioning look.

"Melanie's flying in today," Sam said, "She's coming home for a couple of weeks. I should call her and tell her that she'll probably be late getting home. The bus schedule's probably been screwed up by the shooting."

Carly nodded and gave Sam a knowing look, but said nothing. Even if Sam tried not to let on, Carly knew she was worried about Melanie. Despite the fact that Sam maintained that she didn't like Melanie. Sam's relationship with her sister had always been an odd one.

Sam listened as the phone rang. Once...twice...three times...it kicked in to voice mail after the fourth ring. Sam ended the call impatiently, the gnawing feeling worsening with every passing minute.

"Voice mail," She said, seeing the questioning look on Carly's face. "She's probably still stuck in baggage claim. God knows it takes forever to get through."

"Yeah, that's probably it." Carly said with a nod. She could see Sam start to panic, and was trying to be reassuring. After all, there were how many girls their age in Seattle? Honestly, what were the odds?

They spent the next hour in silence, watching intently as the news story unfolded. There was a sudden knock on the door, making them all jump. Carly jumped to her feet and ran for the door, figuring it was probably Melanie, having assumed that Sam would be there. She stopped dead when she saw two uniformed police officers at the door.

"Samantha Puckett?" The first of the officers asked. He was a tall, burly black man who, under most circumstances, would have looked extremely intimidating. In this instance, however, his eyes were soft; hesitant, even.

"N-no." Carly stammered. She turned and looked at Sam, who was wide-eyed, looking at the officers standing at the door.

"Whatever it was, I didn't do it." Sam said, raising her hands in the air defensively.

"We're not here to arrest you, Miss Puckett." The second officer, a tall, slender man, replied. He wore a pained expression, and Carly had seen him flinch the moment he'd laid eyes on Sam. She was the only one who'd noticed. "Your mother informed us you might be here."

Sam just stared at the officers. Her blood ran cold through her veins. Understanding began to dawn on her. _They won't release her identity until they've notified her family._ Somewhere deep down, she knew why they were there, though she secretly prayed that there was some other possible explanation. Any other possible explanation.

"You were talking to my mom? What happened? Is she alright?" She played dumb. Maybe if she ignored it, it wouldn't be true.

"No, Miss Puckett, your mother is fine." The second officer assured her, not meeting her eyes. "It's...it's Melanie, your sister. She's been-"

"No!" Sam said loudly, shaking her head. Her eyes flitted between the TV set, still running the shooting story, and the officer that refused to meet her eyes. "No! It's not her! It can't be her!"

"We're terribly sorry, Miss Puckett. She's been shot. There was nothing anyone could do to save her." The first officer finished for his partner.

"NO! You're lying! There must be some kind of mistake..." Sam groped desperately to maintain her state of denial.

"There's no mistake, Miss Puckett." The second officer replied quietly. He'd seen the dead girl for himself. This Sam was her doppleganger. There could be no mistake that this girl was the dead girl's twin.

"Stop calling me that! My name is SAM!" Sam shouted, starting to cry. "And my sister is not dead!"

"Oh, Sam." Carly whispered, fighting back her own tears. She walked over to Sam, who couldn't hold it together anymore. Sam's knees buckled and she fell to the floor, bawling hysterically and shouting incoherently. Carly sank down to the floor with her, not letting go, holding her while she cried. Carly felt completely helpless; she had no idea what to do. She buried her head into Sam's shoulder, letting her own tears fall as Sam cried into her shoulder. Carly had known the Puckett twins since childhood; Melanie was one of her best friends, next to Sam. Soon Spencer and Freddie huddled in around Sam as well.

Spencer looked shell-shocked, his usual goof ball attitude suddenly replaced by a zombie-like seriousness. Freddie could feel the hollow ache of pain and helplessness as he watched his two best friends (though he would never openly admit to thinking of Sam as such) bawl. He thought back to the short time he had spent with Melanie...the date they'd had...the kiss she'd given him...and felt the sick ache grow worse. Though he hadn't known her the way Carly, Sam, and Spencer had, he had _known_ her. He had known her and now she was gone. Tears began spilling from his eyes. He didn't even bother to try to hide them. Instead, he knelt down and wrapped his arms around Carly and Sam.

It was several minutes before Sam was able to pull together a coherent sentence that was just barely intelligible through her hyperventilation.

"I want to...I want to see her. Take me to her. I...I need to see for myself."

* * *

Carly stood with Sam in the basement level of the hospital, in front of the Morgue door. Sam stood rooted to the spot, gripping Carly's hand as though it were a lifeline. Her mother was upstairs with Spencer, Freddie, and Mrs. Benson, who'd come along to offer their support and condolences to Sam and her mother.

Her mother had been unable to come to the morgue and see Melanie, citing that it was simply too painful for her to do. So the task had been left to Sam to provide the morgue with a positive identification of her sister's body; despite the fact that the similarities in their appearances made it virtually undeniable that the body was, indeed, that of Melanie Puckett, the coroner still needed a statement of confirmation from the family.

Carly couldn't help despising Sam's mother a little bit at that moment. She could understand how difficult it was for Sam's mother, how painful it would be to go into the morgue and view her daughter's body; but moreso, she understood how painful this was for Sam, the surviving twin, and how unfair it was for Sam's mother to make her go in and face this alone.

Sam had been steeling herself to walk through the morgue doors for a good ten minutes. It was funny, how only half an hour ago she'd wanted to be there, wanted to see her sister's corpse for herself. Now that she was there, however, she didn't want to be. She'd rather have been anywhere else in the world. She was terrified of what was waiting for her on the other side of the door; terrified of the undeniable proof that her twin sister was, indeed, dead.

She was thankful for the fact that Carly was there with her. Even more, she was thankful for the fact that Carly had waited patiently with her while she tried to summon up the courage to do what she needed to do. Carly hadn't tried to pressure her into going in; just waited patiently, silently, every so often giving Sam's hand a squeeze to show her support.

Finally, Carly spoke.

"You don't have to do this right now, Sam."

Sam looked at her best friend with tired, teary eyes. "Yeah, Carls, I do."

There was silence for a moment.

"I'll be right here with you, Sam."

"I know." Sam paused, "Thanks, Carly."

Carly gave Sam's hand a supportive squeeze in response. Sam took a deep breath and swallowed hard, despite the fact that her throat and mouth were completely dry. Holding tightly to Carly's hand, she pushed open the door and walked with Carly to the metal slab in the middle of the room. A thin blue sheet covered most of the slab, hiding the corpse that rested upon it. The coroner stood ready beside the slab.

"Are you ready?" The coroner asked. He was a relatively young, handsome man, not much older than Carly's brother. Sam looked the young man in the eye and nodded silently. The coroner nodded back and pulled away a portion of the blue sheet, so that the head and neck of the corpse was exposed.

Sam let out a gasp and her hand flew to her mouth;out of the corner of her eye, she witnessed a similar reaction by Carly. She felt as though she'd just taken a punch to the stomach. There was no denying it; the corpse on the table was Melanie. It was real now. She was really dead.

Sam could feel herself trembling uncontrollably, her knees threatening to buckle, as she stared down at her sister. Melanie's hair was still tied back in a neat ponytail, her face devoid of the usual preppy smile Sam had come to associate with her sister. If anything, Melanie's face was frozen in a perpetual state of shock. What bothered Sam the most about the scene, though, were Melanie's eyes. They were clouded over, unfocused; empty. Lifeless.

"Mel..." Sam whispered, tears beginning to flow freely once again. She grabbed on tightly to Carly, attempting to keep herself from collapsing onto the morgue floor. Carly held her back equally tightly.

"D-did she...I mean, was it...did it hurt?" Sam choked out between sobs. The coroner shook his head, regarding her sadly.

"No...she bled out almost instantly."

Sam just nodded, sobbing uncontrollably, clinging to Carly, who was clinging to her as well. The coroner looked uncomfortable.

"Listen, I'm just going to...uh...I've got some paperwork to do. Take as long as you need." He said, quietly. With that, he turned and left, leaving Carly and Sam to mourn Melanie.

* * *

The next week was a blur for Sam. The days melted together into one endless sea of guilt and fury and anguish. She spent most of her days sleeping, trying to escape the crushing sorrow she felt pressing in on her. When she wasn't sleeping, she was laying in her bed staring blankly at the roof or, on her most ambitious days, laying on Carly's bed staring at the roof, while Carly tried fruitlessly to offer some sort of small comfort.

Sam barely spoke to her mother anymore, who was too wrapped up in her own emotional turmoil to notice that of her surviving daughter. Not that she'd been overly concerned with Sam to begin with. Melanie had always been her mom's pride and joy; she had been the success story. Perhaps that was why Sam had spent so much of her life resenting Melanie; then again, maybe it was Sam's jealousy. Whatever the reason, Sam had resented Melanie, and she'd made sure Melanie knew it. Still, despite everything, Sam had never actually hated her sister. To do so would have been impossible. But what if Melanie hadn't known that?

That was the question that plagued Sam's every waking moment. What if Melanie had thought that Sam hated her? She'd never even know how wrong that thought was. If anything, Sam had idolized her. Melanie was smart, funny, caring; she was naturally loved by everyone. She made friends so easily it made Sam sick. She'd had everything Sam had ever wanted; she was everything Sam had wished she could be. Well, except maybe the girly part. Sam's jealousy had caused her to push her sister away; and now Melanie could never know how much she'd really meant to Sam. How important her presence was to Sam's life.

The day of Melanie's final viewing before her funeral, Sam just sat silently in her seat in the front row, staring at the empty casket in front of her. The room was empty save for her, Carly, Freddie, and Spencer. Everyone else had said their goodbyes earlier. Freddie and Spencer stood in somber black suits at the back of the room by the doors. They'd already gone up to the casket and said what they'd needed to. Now they were there for moral support for Sam.

Carly, wearing a simple black dress, finished saying her goodbyes at the casket and walked slowly back to sit beside Sam. She wiped the tears from her eyes and, sitting down, gently took Sam's hand and gave it a squeeze. Sam snapped out of her near-catatonic state and looked over at Carly.

"My sister's dead." She whispered; her eyes began to tear up and she was fighting back sobs. "My twin sister. She's gone. Forever. I'll never get to talk to her again."

"I know, Sam." Carly answered, fresh tears streaking mascara down her cheeks.

"I loved her, Carly. I loved her so much. But I never said it. I treated her like I hated her. What if she didn't know?"

"She knew, Sam." Carly reassured her, squeezing her hand again.

"But what if she didn't?" Sam asked, her voice becoming frantic, "What if she didn't, Carly? Now she'll never know! Now I can never tell her!" She began sobbing loudly, burying her face in her hands. She felt Carly's arms wrap tightly around her, Carly's hand stroking her hair gently.

"I...I was...m-mad....at her...Carls." Sam admitted between bouts of hysteria, "Mad because...because she l-left...left me here...alone. And because...because her life...was so...so awesome. Sh-she...was my hero...Carly. And I...never...told her. Oh, God, Carly, I miss her so much!"

Carly shushed Sam and held her for a while longer, gently stroking her hair. Her heart broke for Sam. She knew that there was nothing she could ever say that would assuage Sam's guilt.

"Say it now, Sam." Carly whispered, "Go tell her now."

"She's dead, Carly!" Sam nearly shrieked, "Melanie's dead! She won't hear me!"

"Say it anyway," Carly urged her calmly, wiping away fresh tears of her own. "that's what the viewing's for. Saying the things you need to say. You'll regret it if you don't."

Sam looked uncertainly at the casket. She hadn't seen her sister's body since that day in the morgue. She wasn't sure she wanted to now.

"Go." Carly whispered.

Sam gave a barely descernible nod. Slowly, she stood and began approaching the casket. It took all the strength she had in her to close the distance between herself and the wooden box holding her sister's body. Gripping the edge of the casket tightly, Sam stared down once more at her sister's face. It was as though she were looking into some sort of morbid mirror.

Melanie's hair was spread out in golden locks around her head, framing it perfectly. Melanie was dressed in her favourite shirt and skirt, Sam knew, even though only her top half was showing. Sam had picked the outfit herself. Melanie's eyes were, blissfully, closed, so that she looked more like she was sleeping than dead.

"This is so stupid." Sam whispered to herself, wiping away her tears. It wasn't like Melanie could actually hear her. Really, what was the point in all this?

Clearing her throat, Sam began to talk.

"Hey, Mel." She said quietly, barely above a whisper, "Here. I...I brought you something." She laid her favourite necklace, the one she'd received from her dad on her fourth birthday, before he'd left, in Melanie's hand. Melanie had received a set of earrings for that birthday, which she was wearing now as she lay in her casket. "I know how much you liked it, and I thought...I thought you should have it."

Sam stopped trying to wipe away her tears; as soon as she wiped them away, they were replaced by new ones. It was an effort in futility. So instead she just let them fall.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry." Sam continued, her voice beginning to break, "I'm sorry for everything I've ever done to you. I'm sorry I made your life miserable. I'm sorry I ever made you think I don't love you. I was just...I was so jealous of you; you had everything. Even with mom, I was always second-best to you. And I...I was angry, Mel. So angry that you just left me here and went off to live your fantastic boarding-school life without me. I felt abandoned by the person I cared about most in the world; the one I thought cared most about me, and I just...wanted to make you hurt the way I was hurting. The truth is, Mel, you were always my hero. I always loved you so, so much. I can't believe I never told you. And I can't believe you'll never know. I miss you so much, Mel...I always will."

She gave a wry laugh and concluded.

"After all, you can't spend nine months sharing a womb with someone and not love them."

She let go of the casket and took several steps backward on unsteady legs. Her black heels caught on the carpet and she tripped backward, landing painfully on the floor. Carly rose from her seat and rushed to help Sam to her feet. Freddie and Spencer also rushed over from their spot at the back of the room. As they all crowded around her, Sam saw men in black suits, employees of the mortuary, enter the room through the side door. They walked briskly over to the casket and began to close it.

As the lid of the casket began closing, time seemed to slow down for Sam. She watched, not even realizing that she was being pulled to her feet, as the lid came ever closer to closing for the final time. She could only see a tiny sliver of her sister's face now. And then...then it was closed. The casket's lock clicked softly into place; the finality of the sound pierced Sam's heart like the bullet that had pierced her sister's.

"Why, Mel?" She asked aloud, breaking into hysterical sobs, though her voice sounded foreign and far away to her, "Why did you leave me here like this?"

Sam jolted awake, shaking all over. She was covered head-to-toe in a cold sweat, and as she raised a hand to wipe her face, she felt fresh tear-tracks on her face; she'd been crying. She sat up straight and looked over at her clock; 4:30 a.m.

Sam could still feel the sinking agony in the pit of her stomach even as her mind registered that it had all just been a dream. A horrible, disturbing dream.

She thought of calling Carly. Carly would understand her calling this early, and hearing Carly's voice would no doubt help her to calm down a little. Instead, though, she got up from her bed and, grabbing the teddy bear she swore up and down that she didn't own, picked her way through the piles of clothes, empty pizza boxes, and low-fat fatcake wrappers on her side of the bedroom, across the duct-tape divider that split the room in two, to the pristine side with the made-up bed. Sam pulled back the comforter on her sister's empty bed and climbed in, taking comfort in being so near something that belonged to Melanie.

Once she'd settled herself into Melanie's bed, Sam picked up the cordless land-line and began punching in numbers, settling herself on her back and putting her left arm behind her head.

After two rings, Sam was greeted by a fatigued and rather pissed-off sounding voice on the other end of the line. Just the sound of the voice made Sam feel instantly comforted.

"Hey, Melanie, it's me." Sam began quietly, "Yeah...yeah, I know it's early, Mel. I'm sorry, I just..." She cast about for a reason to be calling. Then it dawned on her what today was. "I just wanted to say happy birthday, sis."

There was a long pause on the end of the phone before Melanie responded, sounding at once alert and worried. Sam couldn't blame her for sounding worried; Sam almost never called Melanie, especially on their birthday. Melanie was usually the one to call her.

"No, Melanie, nothing happened...seriously...I'm fine, really...Yes, mom's fine, too. I just...wanted to call and talk to you...yes, really. Look, when was the last time I called just to talk?...Never? Really?...Yes, I realize how early it is...Okay, so it's kind of odd, I'll give you that."

Sam hated how easily Melanie could read her, even over the phone. She figured it must be that identical-twin psychic stuff those tv specials were always going on about. She debated telling Melanie about her dream, but almost immediately decided against it.

"Look, I've just...I've got some important stuff to say. Things I should have told you a long time ago..."

AN: So yeah, I recently started watching ICarly, and, after watching the 'iTwins' episode, this just kind of popped into my head and wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it. I'm sorry if it seems a little abrupt, but I couldn't really find a way to make it less so. So there. I wrote it. Now I can go do something constructive with my time...like dishes! Yay! **(Sarcasm)**


End file.
